


Troublemakers: The Dead Robins' MLM

by River9Noble



Series: Batcowverse [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dead Robin(s) (DCU), F/M, Humor, JaySteph - Freeform, Romance, Shameless Smut, Tumblr: Jason Todd Rare Pair Challenge, Tumblr: fyeahjaysteph, but then there’s a story, thicc thighs alert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/River9Noble/pseuds/River9Noble
Summary: Damian's in trouble with Bruce over a certain piece of his artwork, but Jason and Steph are having none of B's misguided parenting. Together, they'll take Damian's rabble-rousing and multiple it by a factor of ten until Bruce wishes that he had never provoked this merry band of troublemakers.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown/Jason Todd
Series: Batcowverse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725391
Comments: 35
Kudos: 132
Collections: Jason Rare Pair Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the same universe as my story "How Now, Batcow?" It's not a direct sequel - which I have decided WILL be forthcoming at some point (no promises when) - but it takes place anytime after the events of HNB. It's not necessary to read that story first, though, in order to enjoy this one.
> 
> I wrote this for the @fyeahjaysteph April Tumblr prompt: Troublemakers. Thanks to shauds for inspiring this idea through our JaySteph conversation! 
> 
> My intention was for it to only be a humor piece... but Jay and Steph insisted on serving some lemons at the beginning. What could I do? I am but their humble scribe. 
> 
> Enjoy!

"Babe," Batgirl said, landing next to Red Hood with a flying leap from the next rooftop over.

"What's up, Blondie?" he asked her with a grin.

Jason Todd was in the middle of patrol in Crime Alley and his fiancée Stephanie Brown was technically supposed to be on her own patrol on the east side of the city with Oracle on comms for backup, but Jason wasn't one to complain when his favorite person in the world showed up unexpectedly.

He wasn't one to pass up the opportunity to kiss her, either - or maybe work in some rooftop sex. It had been awhile since they'd connected in the suits and there was something about the chemistry of the masks and the adrenaline of patrol and the night air breezing around their bits and pieces of exposed skin…

Steph wasn't objecting to his gloved hands sliding down her back and over her curvy ass as his tongue worked its way deeper into her mouth, so Jason figured whatever had prompted her surprise visit wasn't an emergency. He was glad he'd only worn the domino tonight, he thought to himself as Steph moaned into him.

"Sit down," she ordered him breathily as she pulled her mouth away from his and pushed him backwards towards the ledge of the roof.

Jason smirked at her but did as ordered and groaned with pleasure as Steph immediately took advantage of his seated position to straddle his thigh and go back to making out with him as she ground against his muscular appendage.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured against her mouth as she rode him, little whines and whimpers escaping from her mouth as she got herself off.

Jason gripped her waist tight and kept her balanced against his leg as he began jiggling it up and down to increase her friction.

"Oh, hell, yeah," Steph wailed, aiming for quiet and not quite succeeding.

"God, you look so hot like this," Jason said to her as his pants grew even tighter from watching her and feeling her writhe against him.

Steph bit her lip and gripped Jason's shoulders hard, her gyrations getting frantic as she approached her climax. Jason's breathing was fast and heavy, too, and he leaned forward to kiss and suck at her neck as she climbed higher and higher until she shuddered into an explosion, quivering on top of his thigh as tears leaked out of her eyes from the intensity of her orgasm.

She moaned out a happy sigh as she finished, slumping forward to wrap her arms around Red Hood's neck as he tenderly stroked her back.

"Have I told you lately what a hot piece of ass you are?" Jason said to her.

"Say it again," Steph smiled against his shoulder.

"So unbelievably sexy," Jason murmured in her ear.

"Keep it coming," Steph grinned at him as she slid off of his leg and knelt in front of him, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants to pull out his now painfully hard cock.

She teased him by only slipping the tip into her mouth at first as Jason's hands came up to gently hold her head, his thumbs lightly stroking over her cheeks as they maintained a heated eye contact with each other.

Steph swirled her tongue against his length as she took more of him into her mouth, adding lots of saliva as she began slowly stroking his cock in and out of her, enjoying the way that Jason twitched each time she popped her lips off over his ridge.

"Where are my compliments?" she teased him as he continued to caress her face with his hands.

"My bad," Jason said with a chuckle as she went back down on him, taking his whole length down her throat this time.

"Fuck," he muttered. "You give the best head I have ever gotten, baby," he murmured as she started bobbing up and down faster.

"Shit, Steph," he groaned as she played with her tongue, too, while she deep throated him again and again. She had one hand squeezed around the base of his cock but slipped the other under him to start gently playing with his balls, which were getting tighter and tighter as she continued her enthusiastic blow job.

Jason's compliments had turned to random babblings mixed with moans, which gave Steph a rush of satisfaction and pleasure as her man started to come undone and she hummed as she continued to suck him which only made his incoherent sounds increase in volume.

With a grunt, he pulled her off of his cock and moved her out of the way as he pumped himself a few quick times and shot his load all over the roof beside her.

"You are the best goddamn woman in the world," Jason sighed with absolute delight as he fastened his pants back up.

"Come here," he said, reaching his arms out for her.

Steph stood and straddled him, hanging her legs off of the building behind them as she wrapped her arms happily around his neck while he hugged her tightly into him.

"My patrol just got a thousand percent better," Jason said with a smile before giving her a kiss.

"Mine, too," Steph giggled. "Even though this isn't why I came over to find you."

"So tell me what's up," Jason said contentedly as he nuzzled her nose with his.

"Well," Steph said with some excitement. "Damian and Bruce had a fight -"

"- naturally," Jason sighed, " - naturally," Steph repeated a tad more glumly before continuing to the part that had wound her up.

"And Damian, being Damian, got a little vicious and left this drawing under Bruce's door," she said. "For him to find when he woke up."

She pulled her phone out of her Batbelt as Jason kept her balanced on his lap with his hands around her waist. Steph showed Jason a photo of a very artfully drawn cartoon robin - the bird, not the person - on its back with its legs up and its eyes x'd out. A little yellow cape lay sadly underneath the dead bird, who also sported a tiny green mask.

A grieving bat was crying its eyes out as it hung upside down from a tree branch over the deceased robin.

Jason choked.

"Right?" Steph said. "Bruce had a conniption when he saw it and said Damian's grounded and benched and internet privileges revoked, blah, blah, blah."

"What did Bruce do that prompted this masterpiece?" Jason said slowly.

Steph chewed her lip.

"I gather that he may have said something not entirely complimentary about the way you handled those child sex traffickers last week," she said cautiously.

Jason grunted.

He had shot the bastards. Shot them dead. Of course. And frankly, a quick death was more than they had deserved and Bruce damn well knew it. But would he admit it? Hell, no.

He'd just bitch about Red Hood's murderous ways and never acknowledge the fact that the justice system would have had those assholes back out on the streets in under a decade. As if that was justice.

"Damian didn't take too kindly to you being insulted," Steph said, a slow smile starting to appear on her face. "He informed me that his Father needed a reminder of what he had once lost so that he would learn to value what he didn't now deserve to have."

"Wow," Jason breathed out in awe. "The kid said all that to Bruce for me?" he said, genuinely touched.

"Yep," Steph said happily. "He loves you," she said, planting a kiss on Jason's cheek.

"I guess so," Jason smiled, squeezing her waist a little tighter. "He's a good kid."

"Yeah," Steph agreed. "Which is why I came up with the best plan ever."

"Which is…?" Jason said with an eager grin.

Because, truth be told, Steph was crazy when it came to ridiculous schemes. Crazy amazing. And Jason could not wait to hear what her latest idea was.

"Well," Steph said, bouncing on his lap a little bit in her eagerness, "Damian's grounded, right? And benched from patrol. But he still has to go to school," she said with a wicked smile.

"And B clearly hasn't learned his lesson," Steph said, "since he lost his shit and went off on Damian instead of thinking about little D's very excellent point about how lucky we all are to have you back," Steph said, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Not to mention that you gave those bastards exactly what they deserved," she said with a frown.

"I think I like where this is going," Jason said with a smile.

Steph beamed at him.

"I did a little research on getting images printed on clothing," Steph said, flipping to a different page on her phone.

"And, voilà!" she cried.

Jason stared at the screen. A slow chuckle started in his belly and turned into full out laughter as he saw Damian's Dead Robin image, minus the bat, positioned on the butt cheeks of a pair of men's briefs.

"We're gonna make those for Bruce?" he said. "That's fantastic."

"Oh, no, no," Steph said with delight. "Not for Bruce at all. We're going to create a multi-level marketing pyramid scheme and get all the kids at Damian's school selling them all over Gotham."

"Oh, my God," Jason said with reverence. "I'm marrying a genius. An evil, mad genius of justice."

Steph beamed at him with pride.

"I love you," she said adoringly.

"I love you, too, babe," Jason said, giving her a deep kiss to prove it.

"We can get women's bikini briefs, too," Steph said a minute later, showing him on her phone. "And kid's sizes. And we can customize the waistbands on both pairs to be red and even get different colored briefs."

"Such fine art deserves only the best finishing details," Jason nodded solemnly in agreement.

"I told Damian to start researching other MLM's so we can copy their format," Steph said to him.

"I thought he was grounded from the internet," Jason frowned.

Steph scoffed.

"As if he only has one phone," she said. "He's fine. Every good vigilante keeps backup technology lying around. Didn't they teach you that in the League of Assassins?" she said playfully.

Jason laughed.

"Not so much," he said. "But then again, I wasn't a minor child living with an overbearing father."

* * *

"You think that good grades will impress your parents?" Damian scoffed at his classmates in the school library, where they had ostensibly gathered for a group project.

"We all get straight A's," Damian said. "Thanks to the tutors that your _parents_ pay for," he said derisively.

"But if you _really_ want to impress mommy and daddy," he said with a wicked grin, "show them that you can be a successful business man - or woman - at the tender age of thirteen," he smirked, handing out his Dead Robin Undies multi-level marketing brochure.

Damian had protested at using the word 'tender' - in fact, he had a lot of problems with the entire recruitment script that Jason had written for him. But Steph had talked him into it.

"You can't show up and insult them all, Damian," she said practically. "I know they're your lessers," she said with not a trace of irony in her voice, although Jason, behind Damian's head, looked like he was about to turn purple from biting his tongue so hard.

"But you have to think strategically about this," Steph continued. "Think like an assassin," she said, lowering her voice dramatically to a whisper, "luring your prey in for the kill."

Jason began to cough, loudly. Or choke. It was hard to tell which.

"You may have a point, Stephanie Brown," Damian said, frowning in thought. "My classmates' inferior intellects will require a certain dumbing down of the marketing delivery, which Todd has indeed composed for me in a depressingly pedestrian style."

"Hey!" Jason glared at him. "Don't forget who's funding this little operation," he glowered.

Damian looked down his nose at him.

"Do not forget who defended you to Father," he said with great hauteur.

The two brothers stared at each other for a minute before Jason and Damian both blinked and thawed simultaneously.

"I did not mean to imply that you lacked intelligence, akhi," Damian sighed. "You are in fact a well-versed academic," he said.

"However, you are equally fluent in the common people's tongue and have therefore crafted an appropriately dim-witted appeal for participation that the ignoramuses at my school should devour like Grayson with a box of cereal."

"Thank you, habibi," Jason said graciously. "And I do appreciate you standing up for me to Pops," he said with a warmer smile and a heartfelt sincerity.

Damian gave him a tiny smile back and nodded before looking back over to Steph.

"Let us go over the script again," he said.

Back in the school library, Damian's classmates were looking at him dubiously.

"So what," his classmate George said, frowning as he pushed his glasses up. "We just have to sell product? That's not impressive," he said.

"Yeah, Damian," Alyssa said as she twirled a long strand of very blond hair. "Being a salesperson is the lowest level of the corporate tier," she said with a huge dose of attitude as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Being one salesperson, yes," Damian said with a gleam in his eye now that he had them on the hook. "But what about recruiting your own salesforce, managing your employees, distributing product based on market trends and supply and demand, and building a corporate structure that rewards those at the top exponentially more than those on the lowest rungs?"

His rich prep school classmates glanced at each other.

"It would look good on my résumé," Frances said slowly as the other students started nodding.

"Would you write us letters of recommendation for college when we succeed?" Robert asked Damian.

"Of course," Damian said grandly.

"What do we have to do?" George said briskly, flipping open his laptop so that he could take notes.

* * *

Damian heaved out a huge sigh of annoyance as Red Bull and Red Hood and Batgirl finished zip-tying the gang of muggers that they had just finished knocking out in Crime Alley.

"Another text," he said, pulling out his vibrating phone.

" _The market is oversaturated,_ " he read in a sing-song voice of belittlement. " _I cannot move my product,_ " he whined.

"Tell them that the key is to buy _more_ product," Steph said breezily. "So that they have more undie varieties available for sale. And that they should recruit more sellers, because the more people they have under them selling, the more money that they make."

"I cannot believe that they do not realize the foolishness of this triangulated endeavor," Damian said with glee as he sent the text back.

"Pyramid scheme," Jason corrected him with a grin.

"As I said," Damian said absent-mindedly as he finished his text. "How much money have we made so far?" he asked them.

"As of last night," Steph said, "around five thousand in profits."

Damian snorted.

"It is quite enjoyable to take advantage of the feeble minded rich," he said with satisfaction.

"Plus, we're getting your artwork out there in the real world," Jason said. "You're a legit commercial artist now, Red Bull."

Damian smiled.

"Indeed," he said with pride. "And as Father has not yet discovered our product, all of Gotham may be wearing Dead Robin Undies in another few weeks," he cackled.

"And if he tries to ground you again," Steph said, "we'll sic Nightwing back on him."

Jason grinned, because Damian's initial grounding had lasted less than twenty-four hours due to a weepy Jason Todd calling his big brother Dick Grayson to bemoan the fact that Bruce didn't love him and had grounded Damian over such a lovingly drawn memorial piece.

"This is how Pops acts when someone offers me some love?" Jason had sniffed into the phone. "And to little D? He - he was only trying to help."

Jason's voice had cracked at that point while a widely grinning Steph gave him double thumbs up in their living room for his finely crafted dramatic performance.

"Shit, Jaybird," Dick had said with angsty grief over Bruce's callous treatment of his once-dead son Jason and of Dick's pseudo-son Damian, who Dick had parented for the two years that Bruce had been supposed dead.

"I'll take care of it," Dick had said firmly. "I promise."

Damian had been un-grounded and back on patrol the very next day thanks to Poppa Dick's intervention, and Bruce himself had even made a hesitant phone call to Jason.

"I… may have overreacted, son," Bruce had mumbled into the phone.

"Over the artwork or over the dead sex traffickers?" Jason said pointedly.

Bruce heaved out a massive sigh.

"Let's leave it at 'I'm sorry,'" he growled and got off the phone before he could slip and admit something that he intended to keep unsaid.

"He called, though," Steph had said, wrapping her arms around Jay's shoulders from behind in a warm hug. "And apologized. That's a big improvement."

"Yeah," Jason said, kissing her hands. "It is, actually."

* * *

"Ms. Brown? This is Ms. Lewis, Damian's homeroom teacher at Gotham Prep."

"This is Ms. Brown," Steph said in confusion, frowning at her phone, because why the hell was Damian's school calling _her._

This was probably not good, she thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Yet she couldn't help but think that Damian, of all people, wouldn't rat her out for her part in the pyramid scheme. So what the fuck?

"Damian said that it would be easier to reach his nanny than his father today," Ms. Lewis said and Steph's jaw dropped and she clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't giggle into the phone.

"I'm sure Mr. Wayne is a very busy man," Ms. Lewis was saying.

"Yes," Steph said soberly. "Yes, he is. Is there a problem?" she said, oozing concern out of her voice. "Is Damian sick? I can come pick him up if he's not feeling well," she said tenderly.

"No, it's nothing like that," Ms. Lewis said. She paused.

"It has come to my attention that Damian has been running a multi-level marketing scheme here at the school, which he has convinced a number of students to participate in. Needless to say, that raises certain… issues," the teacher said severely.

"Oh, my," Steph said. "You know what? I'm coming up to the school. I think we should talk about this in person," she said. "So that you can give me the whole story. I want to make sure I have all the details right so I can convey it to Mr. Wayne properly."

"That would be wonderful," Ms. Lewis breathed out in relief.

When Steph got to the school and had signed in for a visitor badge, she was escorted down to Ms. Lewis's room, who was in the middle of a class.

"Ms. Lewis? Ms. Brown is here to see you," the assistant headmaster said. "I'll watch your class for you so you can have a conference."

Steph mentally rolled her eyes, because she guessed that you got what you paid for. No way in hell would a teacher have been pulled out of their class at public school for a parent conference. Parents had to come before or after school and work around the teacher's schedule, not the other way around.

But when someone paid forty thousand dollars a year for tuition, she supposed that the person with the checkbook was always right.

Steph gave a huge sugary smile to Ms. Lewis.

"Could Damian join us as well?" Steph asked her. "I would like to ask him some questions, too."

"Of course," Ms. Lewis said. "He's in math right now. We'll get him on the way down to the conference room."

When Damian and Steph were seated in front of a very serious Ms. Lewis in the privacy of a conference room, Ms. Lewis slid a pair of teenaged sized men's briefs, Dead Robin side up, across the table to Steph, who raised her eyebrows and jumped back a little bit in her seat.

"Ms. Lewis!" she exclaimed in horror. "What is that? Are those clean? Why are you showing me underwear?"

"This is what Damian has been selling," Ms. Lewis said. "And inducing other students to sell for him."

Steph looked at Damian, who was keeping his face carefully schooled in a neutral expression.

"The student handbook does not forbid student-run entrepreneurial enterprises," he said to Stephanie.

She raised an eyebrow and looked to Ms. Lewis.

"Is that true?" Steph asked her.

Ms. Lewis appeared slightly flustered.

"I don't - we would have to check - it may not be explicitly spelled out _,_ but -"

"But if it's not explicitly spelled out, then it's not forbidden, is it?" Steph asked her calmly.

"It is definitely against the rules," Ms. Lewis said firmly.

"Which rules?" Steph asked her, leaning forward a little bit. "If it was against a rule, then the rule should be in the handbook."

"And it is not," Damian said. "Naturally I consulted the rulebook before beginning my business."

Steph leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

"So you're accusing Damian of breaking rules that don't exist?" she asked Ms. Lewis sharply.

The teacher took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Ms. Brown," she said, carefully enunciating each word in her annoyance, "I'm sure that you would agree that selling underwear, specifically, regardless of what the handbook says or does not say, is a most inappropriate product line for children."

"Why?" Steph asked her coolly.

Ms. Lewis spluttered a little bit.

"This is a highly sexual product!" she said. "The art is on, well, the rear of the garments," she said.

"You think that this artwork is sexual?" Stephanie said in a horrified voice.

Damian followed her cue and dropped his jaw, opening his eyes wide.

"Ms. Lewis!" Steph said with disgust. "If you find dead robins sexual, then I must conclude that you are either into necrophilia or into bestiality, and you are most unfit to be teaching children!" Steph hissed.

"I need to speak to the headmaster about this," Steph said, standing up and reaching out a hand for Damian, who she pulled behind her to shield from his amoral teacher.

"Ms. Brown!" Ms. Lewis gasped. "I assure you that I do _not_ have sex with animals!" she snapped.

"Necrophiliac, then," Steph said grimly, giving Damian a look.

"We should alert the Gotham Cemetery," Damian said somberly, "that we have found a suspect for the grave-robbing cases."

"Yes, we should," Steph nodded. "Come, Damian," she said, leading the way as they marched out of the conference room.

Damian snatched his underwear off of the table as they went, leaving a shell-shocked Ms. Lewis behind them, gulping with an open mouth like a fish.

Inside Steph's beat-up car, Damian cackled with glee as she sped out of the school parking lot.

"Your nanny, huh?" Steph giggled, giving him a high five. "That was inspired, D."

"Tt," said Damian. "It was nothing. I suppose that Father will hear about this, now, and our fun shall be over," he sighed.

Steph slid her eyes sideways to him as she drove.

"Maybe not," she said. "Your headmasters's gonna be shitting herself that Bruce Wayne is gonna sue the school and get your teacher fired," she smiled. "Bet you ten bucks they don't call him at all."

"Eh, no bet," Damian said thoughtfully. "I believe the odds are in your favor."

"Especially since private school teachers don't have a union," Steph smirked.

* * *

"We have a problem," Damian announced gravely to Jason and Stephanie. "A most unforeseen circumstance."

"What's up, Little D?" Jason said as he turned the quesadillas over on the stove.

Damian had come over to Jason and Stephanie's home in the Narrows to train with them and then jointly patrol under Oracle's watchful eyes and ears as he did twice a week. Normally, he was in a good mood and looked forward to spending time with his fellow Robins.

But tonight, he looked concerned.

"One of my classmates has succeeded a little too well in our triangular enterprise," Damian said.

He sighed morosely. Jason and Steph glanced at each other, then at Damian.

"I regret to inform you that one of Emily's subordinate's subordinate's subordinate sellers has some rather unfortunate connections," the youngest Wayne said.

"What's that mean?" Steph said, raising her eyebrow.

Damian looked her dead in the eye.

"Every inmate in Arkham Asylum is now the owner of at least one pair of Dead Robin Undies. Many inmates have the whole color set."

"No," Jason said, turning around to stare at Damian.

"Unfortunately, yes," Damian said, leaning his head forward to rest his chin in his hands on the kitchen counter, where he was perched on a red leather bar stool.

"And it is my understanding that the prisoners are zealously joyful in their celebratory exercises over the death of two Robins," Damian said. "Perhaps placing the graphics on the buttocks was an oversight," he mused.

"Well, you know what this means," Jason said very seriously, looking to Steph.

She nodded.

"Panty raid!" she yelled together with Jason as they high-fived each other.

* * *

An aghast Batman was, for once in his life, speechless as he stared at the three huge trashbags stuffed full of colorful underwear that the Arkham guards had waiting for him at the gate.

"The prisoners had these in their cells?" the Bat gaped at Dr. Arkham.

"And on their persons," Dr. Arkham said uncomfortably. "We had to perform a strip search of every inmate and toss their cells," he said.

"Red Hood and Batgirl and the little one, what's his name, Red Bull? They're looking into how the - _articles_ \- were smuggled into the asylum," Dr. Arkham said. "If it wasn't for the tip from their informant, we would have had no idea that these were being circulated, I'm afraid," the warden sighed.

"We'll have to revisit our security measures," he said glumly.

"Yes," Batman managed to grunt out.

"Of course, I assume that an inmate is behind this deplorable design," the psychiatrist said, sniffing his nose at Damian's Dead Robin drawing visible on the uppermost pair of undies in the garbage bag.

"That would be the logical explanation," Batman growled, feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on.

"Well, I'll leave you to dispose of these as you see fit, Batman," Dr. Arkham said, relieved to pass the responsibility onto someone else, even if it was extremely awkward to dump three bags of underwear, not all clean, onto the vigilante whose own dead sidekicks were portrayed on their rumps.

But Red Hood had insisted that Batman be the one to pick up the underwear as he would want to go over each pair for clues as to their origins.

And Dr. Arkham, despite being the warden of some of the most dangerous inmates in the country, could not find it within himself to argue with a fiercely angry Red Hood. Who was being backed by a scowling Batgirl and by the new little one who, quite frankly, gave him the willies as he lowered his tiny red hooded bull horns at him in a most sinister manner.

Better to do as they said and let Batman handle it, Dr. Arkham had decided. At least Batman didn't use guns. Or gore people.

Bruce's headache had reached a ten by the time he pulled into the Batcave.

"Oh, Master Bruce," Alfred said, waiting for him as he exited the car.

"Alfred, we need to burn three bags of underwear," Bruce growled.

Alfred's eyebrows went up in shock.

"That seems quite unnecessary, sir," he said disapprovingly. "These drawers appear to be almost new. After a good washing, I shall donate them to the city homeless shelters," he said.

Bruce groaned.

"Then more people will be wearing them," he said.

"As one does with undergarments, sir," Alfred sniffed. "I should hope," he added under his breath, thinking of a certain Master Todd's proclivity to go combat.

Bruce sighed.

"I need an imitrex," he muttered. "I have a migraine."

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "However, I must inform you that Master Damian's school called while you were out."

"Oh, dear God," Bruce mumbled to himself, shoulders slumping.

"It seems that young Master Damian has become quite the businessman," Alfred said, walking Bruce over to the medbay as he patted a soothing hand on the vigilante's back.

"How's that?" Bruce said, giving Alfred a worried and puzzled look.

Alfred tsk'd.

"It seems the young sir has created quite the pyramid scheme which he has cajoled his classmates into joining," the butler said.

"A pyramid scheme…?" Bruce said, his stomach sinking. This was worse than he had thought. The phone calls he was going to have to make to all the other parents… he felt his headache worsening at the thought.

"And apparently," Alfred said dryly, "Miss Stephanie has become Master Damian's nanny. It seems that she led one of his teachers to believe that the woman might become a person of interest in a grave-robbing case."

"Grave-robbing?" Bruce said weakly, his eyes getting bigger.

He groaned. God help him.

He never should have grounded Damian. His child was enough of a troublemaker on his own, but pair him with Steph? And back Steph with Jason?

"The next time I start to say something negative about Jason," Bruce said to Alfred, meeting his eyes with complete seriousness, "stuff a sock in my mouth."

"I believe a pair of Dead Robin Undies would be much more effective, sir," said Alfred.

_The End (but wait - there's more!)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Several people asked about what Dick's reaction would be when he found out about the undies... so read on for the Epilogue.


	2. Epilogue: What About Dick?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, several people wanted to know what Dick's reaction would be when he found out about the undies... 
> 
> So here it is. 
> 
> It morphed into an entire thing. It starts out funny, then there's some angst, but it ends happy so it's all ok.

"Hi, Bruce," Dick said breezily into the phone from his apartment in Bludhaven, where he and Damian and Titus the dog were curled up on the couch together watching Animal Planet.

"Everything ok in Gotham?" Dick asked as Damian looked up with interest at hearing Bruce's name.

Bruce grunted. He still had the remnants of a very bad headache.

"Did you know that your son put that dead Robin picture he drew on underwear?" Bruce griped to him.

Dick beamed to himself at hearing Bruce refer to Damian as his son. He had been worried when Bruce returned from being trapped-in-time that Bruce might resent him for becoming Damian's de facto father in his absence.

In fact, things had seemed a little touchy at first as Bruce had taken back both Batman and primary custody of Damian.

But ever since Jason and Steph had suggested that Damian start spending every weekend in Bludhaven, as well as had the little Robin start patrolling with the two of them under Oracle's supervision twice a week, Dick's relationship with both Bruce and Damian was back on solid ground.

As evidenced by Bruce casually referring to Damian as Dick's son!

"Yes," Dick said enthusiastically to Bruce in response to his question. "I'm wearing a pair of the boxer briefs right now."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"You are…?" Bruce said slowly.

"Yep!" Dick said cheerfully, ruffling Damian's hair as he got up to move into the bedroom so he could talk to Bruce with a little more privacy.

"I'm so proud of him for putting his art out there on a product," Dick said as he shut the bedroom door. "It was such a fantastic idea."

"You don't have a problem with all this _?_ " Bruce said in snarling disbelief.

"Well," Dick said, dropping his voice to a hushed whisper. "I did think the sobbing bat hanging down onto the front of the crotch was a little weird," he said. "But don't tell Damian I said that. I mean, I get that's where the graphic fit the best. It's just strange to have a weeping bat covering my dick, is all," Dick said with a slight chuckle.

"None of the underwear I saw had a bat on it," was the first thing that popped into Bruce's head to say as the horror of what Dick was saying to him started to sink in.

"Oh, yeah, Damian said the first run had some printing errors," Dick said casually.

"Printing errors," Bruce whispered, almost to himself.

"Yeah, some of them didn't get the bat graphic, I guess. They only got printed on one side with the robins," Dick said.

"But, Dick," Bruce said weakly. "Do you really think you should encourage him in this nonsense? Why are you wearing them?"

"Bruce," Dick said, shocked hurt lacing through his voice.

"How can you call Damian's art nonsense? And of course I'm wearing them," Dick said, anger creeping into his voice. "That's what you do when your son gives you a present. Aren't you wearing yours?" he asked him accusingly.

Bruce gurgled on the other end of the phone.

"You're seriously not wearing them?" Dick said, really angry now. "Even after what he said to you about them?"

"About… Jason?" Bruce asked him faintly.

"Yes!" Dick said. "And Steph."

"Steph," Bruce repeated numbly.

"Yes," Dick snapped in frustration. "Do you really mean to tell me that when Damian told you how he made them for us all to wear on patrol so that we would always be carrying the undefeated, overcoming spirit of the resurrected Dead Robins with us as we fought for justice - you mean to tell me that you didn't go put the damn underwear on?"

Bruce gaped at the phone in his hand.

Dick sounded like he was about to fly over to Gotham and fight him.

Oh, God, Bruce thought helplessly.

"The MLM, Dick," Bruce said, grasping at straws of sanity.

He wasn't the crazy one. He wasn't. Damian was in Big Trouble for this. And so were Steph and Jason.

"Don't change the subject, Bruce," Dick said impatiently. "Of course I'm impressed with his MLM project, but that doesn't change how disappointed I am in you right now. He's your son, too, Bruce," Dick said accusingly. "He needs your support and love just as much as he needs mine."

"What MLM _project_?" Bruce said, his irritation mounting. "Dick, I have had to spend the last three hours on the phone with almost all of the parents in his damn school whose children he roped into his fucking pyramid scheme."

"Well, that was the point of the project, wasn't it?" Dick said sharply.

"What are you talking about?" Bruce said, starting to get angry now. "What _project_? His school didn't say anything about a project. They said he was running an illegal pyramid scheme and that most of his classmates' maids had discovered boxes and boxes of unsold underwear hidden under their beds at home."

"Bruce," Dick said in a scathing tone. "Did you talk to Damian about this at all?"

"Well… no," Bruce muttered slowly.

It had all seemed so obvious. It _was_ obvious, dammit.

It was.

"Well, there's your problem right there," Dick was saying with major annoyance. "I swear to God, Bruce, if you would just talk to your children once in awhile then all of these misunderstandings could be avoided."

"What misunderstanding?" Bruce snapped. "Enlighten me, oh great and marvelous father."

"There's no need to get catty," Dick scolded him. "And I'm going to put Damian on to tell you. Because he's your _son_ , Bruce. Who you should have talked to about this first before wasting your time on a bunch of stupid phone calls."

"Stupid phone -" Bruce felt his mouth fall open as he thought about every single fucked up annoying apology he had spent all afternoon making, and how many parents had yelled at him, and how he had had to promise to refund them so much money for _underwear_ , of all things - underwear that Damian had made to mock him - underwear that Damian was clearly making an obscene profit margin on based on the wholesale price that he had charged his minions for their glutloads of unsold stock.

"Father?" he heard Damian's voice say very pleasantly into the phone. "Grayson said you wished to speak to me?"

"Son," Bruce growled into the phone. "Explain your MLM project to me. Please," he added after a moment.

"Of course, Father!" Damian said cheerfully. "It is my entry for talent night at the school," he said.

"Talent night," Bruce said suspiciously.

"Yes, Father," Damian said. "You have taught me to value justice above all else in the world," he said sweetly. "And so many of my classmates are preparing inane vocal solos and terribly rudimentary lessons on the proper golf grip."

"Uh huh," Bruce growled, not liking where this was going. Not one bit.

"I thought it would be a far more beneficial use of talent night to conduct an MLM experiment on my classmates that I could discuss the results of for my talent night presentation. It is on Monday," Damian said suddenly.

"Are you coming?"

"I - Monday?" Bruce thought of the charity auction that Lucius Fox had sworn to put Wayne Manor up for sale at if Bruce didn't attend.

"You are coming, aren't you, Father?" Damian said in a small voice. "Everyone else is."

"Who else?" Bruce whispered, getting a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Alfred and Dick and Babs and Jason and Steph. Everyone," Damian said, deliberately leaving out the Replacement's name, who was neither invited nor coming nor acknowledged by Damian as being Anybody.

"Of course -" Bruce said quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes, of course I'm coming," he said more firmly. "But finish telling me about your project," he said, determined not to be derailed.

Lucius was only teasing, anyway. He didn't own the deed to Wayne Manor. Still. Why the fuck hadn't Bruce heard about this damn talent night before now?

"It will spoil my presentation if I tell you ahead of time," Damian was insisting. "I want you to be suitably impressed when you hear my speech."

"I -" Bruce said helplessly.

This wasn't right. He knew this wasn't right. He was being played. He knew it. Damian knew that he knew it.

Dick had no clue, but that was Dick for you. As sweet as his stupid Cocoa Puffs.

And Bruce didn't have to be the World's Greatest Detective to know that Steph and Jason were behind this somehow, too. Alfred, he couldn't be sure about, but Alfred had been none too pleased when Bruce had snarked about Jason's deadly form of justice or when Bruce had overreacted to Damian's drawing and his haughtily delivered lecture on Gratitude for Resurrected Dead Sons.

Alfred was highly protective of Jason.

Bruce wouldn't put it past his butler to deliberately leave Talent Night off of Brucie Wayne, Billionaire's master calendar.

"I'll be there," Bruce mumbled into the phone. "I'll see you after school on Monday, son," he sighed, which was when Damian would be home from Bludhaven.

Maybe Bruce could forget about the underwear until then.

"Have a good weekend with Dick," Bruce added, because why the fuck not. He knew when he was beaten.

But Bruce did not realize quite how bad his beating was going to be until Talent Night rolled around and it was Damian's turn onstage.

Jason was sitting to Bruce's left, his arm around Steph's shoulders, with Alfred on her other side. Dick and Babs were to his right, Babs on the end of the aisle in her wheelchair. Her hand was interlaced with Dick's and they both looked so happy and proud to see little Damian walking up to the podium that Bruce almost got a lump in his throat.

Almost.

Because he glanced sideways at Jason and Steph and while they looked proud, too, there was also an eagerly expectant air about them. Steph was sitting right on the edge of her plastic seat and Jason was leaning forward, too, a sharp glint in his eye that Bruce did not like one bit.

"Good evening, classmates, parents, and teachers," Damian began.

He clicked a remote and a powerpoint popped up behind him on the screen that the Assistant Headmaster had wheeled out for Damian's presentation.

"For my talent," Damian said, "I chose to educate my classmates about the evils of corporate infrastructure in America by subjecting them to the pitfalls of a Multi-Level Marketing endeavor. In their desperate attempts at success and their subsequent gross failures, the students were exposed to the trials and travails of the average American corporate employee, mired in a system that, by design, condemns them to mediocrity and poverty."

A pin could have been heard to drop in the school auditorium as a host of CEO and one percenter parents stared icily at Damian Wayne.

Bruce wanted to slouch lower in his seat. He had never resented his over six-foot-tall frame more than he did in that moment. Or ever felt quite so bitter about the Joker putting Barbara in a wheelchair. A wheelchair that guaranteed the entire Wayne family disability seating in the front row with the eyes of dozens of angry parents boring into their backs.

Dick, however, was staring doe-eyed at Damian and dear God, was that a tear in his eye? Dick gave Babs a tender look as he lifted her hand up to his mouth to kiss it before turning back to face Damian and giving him a big approving smile and nod of encouragement.

Damian let a little smile light up his face in return and he lifted his hand up to give Dick a tiny wave from the podium, which Dick returned with his left hand before using it to wipe his eyes.

Bruce sighed.

Damian glanced at Jason who gave him the barest nod of his head. Without further ado, Damian launched into a scathing take-down of his classmates and their social caste, aided and abetted by charts and graphs and statistical analyses on his never-ending chain of slides.

" - we see that not only does the one-percent system fail the individual employee, but it fails society as a whole, as we turn to the case of Emily, who, in her ever-increasing despair at falling behind in sales, turned to more ruthless recruitment tactics in order to ensnare new sellers into what she had already realized was a fundamentally flawed endeavor, much like the predatory lending practices in the housing market collapse of -"

Bruce noticed out of the corner of his eye, his eye that he was trying to keep glued straight forward so he could pretend not to see the dirty glances that both teachers and parents were sending him, that Jason was mouthing the words of the speech in perfect sync with Damian.

"Damian had Jason help him practice his delivery a lot," Steph whispered to Bruce with a big toothy grin when she noticed that he had noticed.

Uh huh. Right. Jason helped him practice. Of course that was all Jason did.

Because it wasn't like Damian had been toddling around in diapers killing people in Asia when the housing market had collapsed in 2006.

And of course Damian had a deep and abiding interest in corporate infrastructure and regulatory practices that Bruce could never get him to shut up about.

Yeah, Bruce was getting another headache.

" - the unfortunate side effect of increasing criminal activity -"

Oh, fuck. Was Damian about to say what Bruce was afraid he was about to say?

No. Please, God, no.

Bruce hadn't prayed in a long time but he quickly rattled off a mental Sh'ma. It wasn't exactly the right circumstance for it, but it was the first prayer that came to mind and anyway, it was customary to recite it upon one's impending death, and Bruce was pretty damn sure that he was going to be murdered on his way out of the auditorium tonight by the poisonous glares from the parents he'd already spent three hours apologizing to before this brand new fiasco.

He really did scootch down in his seat as Damian said, " - and Emily's subordinate's subordinate's subordinate, whose name has already been disclosed to Commissioner Gordon -"

Oh, God. Bruce stopped listening for a few seconds as his blood pounded in his ears.

" - resulting in an Arkham wide panty raid, both time consuming and a dreadful waste of employee resources, not to mention the disgracefulness of having to involve our city's finest heroes, Red Hood, Batgirl, and Red Bull in an operation of such foolishness, and all because Emily did not properly vet her employees or question the efficacy of the MLM rather than attempting to lure more unsuspecting victims into her enterprise."

Jason and Steph were beaming at Damian and a teenaged girl could suddenly be heard sobbing in the back of the auditorium over two angrily murmuring voices before abruptly bursting out into an angry torrent.

"You _never_ say you're proud of me! Solve it yourself, Emily! Try harder!" she screamed at her parents, Bruce had to assume.

Steph and Jason turned all the way around in their seats and started watching Emily's showdown with their mouths wide open like delighted puppy dogs who had just gotten their favorite bone.

"People beneath you deserve to be taken advantage of if they're too stupid to know what's happening!" Emily screamed even louder, stamping her foot for emphasis as she tossed her parents' words to her back at them.

"Well said, Emily," Damian interjected from the podium, nodding at her. She turned and stared at him in horror.

"It is indeed fortunate that I do not in actuality subscribe to your parents' philosophy," Damian said as the face of Emily's parents turned an even deeper shade of red.

"All of the unsold pairs of Dead Robin Undies as well as the profits earned by the one percent of the pyramid, namely myself, will be donated in my Father's name to Gotham City's homeless shelters," Damian said with righteous satisfaction.

"All of the used pairs of Arkham undies, too," Alfred murmured under his breath to Steph and Jason, who began chortling.

"Because it was my Father, Bruce Wayne," Damian continued over Emily's sniffs and sobs, "who taught me the true meaning of justice."

Damian gestured grandly to Bruce.

"Stand up, Father, please," Damian said with an adoring smile directed right at Bruce.

Bruce froze. But Jason was tugging his arm and pulling him up with a gleeful grin. And Dick was pushing Bruce up from his other side with happy tears in his eyes that his little Damian had achieved a sense of morality since leaving the League of Assassins and was even crediting Bruce for some of it.

Maybe Damian and Bruce had come farther along in their relationship than Dick had thought, and that made him so happy inside that Babs needed to hand him a tissue from out of her purse.

"Turn around, Pops! Wave!" Jason insisted in Bruce's ear as Bruce tried to resist having to face the audience.

"Please also stand up, Baba," Damian said from the microphone. "My older brother Dick Grayson, who is like my second father, must also take credit for teaching me the meaning of love."

Bruce felt time stop.

Because that last sentence? Holy shit.

Damian had meant that.

Even Jason and Steph were startled and looking at Damian, whose eyes were locked with Dick's in silent communication as Alfred looked on with quietly shining eyes.

Bruce swallowed.

Dick blinked away a few more tears as he held eye contact with Damian for a long minute before nodding slightly at his son and standing up, taking Bruce's arm to turn him around with him so they could face the audience full of people who looked like they wanted to clap for the do-gooding Waynes even less than they wanted to give full-time hours and benefits to all of their employees.

A spattering of half-hearted applause trickled through the room, barely drowning out the heated argument that Emily's parents were having with each other in what was bearing less and less of a resemblance to whispers.

Jason and Steph were wiping tears from their eyes, too, when Bruce and Dick sat down, because Damian was looking at the two of them now with so much gratitude and appreciation in his eyes that Bruce started to feel as shitty as one of the desecrated pairs of Dead Robin Undies that had been buried in the trash bags he'd picked up from Arkham Asylum.

Maybe… maybe he had been an asshole.

Maybe… he was usually an asshole?

A hollow feeling filled Bruce's chest as he sat numbly and tuned out the end of Damian's speech.

He was Damian's father. His actual, biological father. He knew that he and Damian rarely saw eye to eye. He knew that he had fucked up over benching him as Robin a while ago, but dammit, it was hard to get along with the kid and even harder to be his Batman.

He had never butted heads so hard with Dick or Jason or Tim when they were Robin.

He had maybe butted heads that hard with Steph. She was something strange and altogether wonderful that Bruce still couldn't quite understand.

She was… if he was being honest… the only Robin who had refused to be intimidated by the big, bad, scary Batman.

The only Robin until Damian.

Was that why he had so much trouble working with Damian as his Robin?

Hell, maybe it was why he had so many issues with Jason, come to think of it. Was it really the killing that bothered him? Or was it the fact that Jason wouldn't respect his rules and do things Batman's way?

Bruce couldn't deny that Jason had come out of the Lazarus Pit far more defiant than he had gone in.

Trying to train together as Batman with Jason and Steph and Damian was proving to be a nightmare, too. They had yet to go out into the field because they couldn't seem to find their rhythm and work as a team.

Bruce had only suggested the team-up in the first place because Damian's feelings had been hurt that he and his Father would never truly be a Batman and Robin, since Dick and Damian had already formed that dynamic. And, more honestly, because Bruce found Damian so difficult to work with, although he would never share that reason with his son.

Bruce had figured that Steph might balance Damian out, though, since the two of them seemed to get along well, and he had thought that he could mold them into an effective trio. But Jason had flat-out refused to let Steph and Damian work with Bruce without Red Hood and the four of them trying to work together was ridiculous.

Because Steph and Damian kept looking to Jason to lead, and even when Jason specifically told them to let Bruce take point, they couldn't seem to stop glancing at Jason for confirmation before following Bruce's directions. It was frustrating as hell.

It made Bruce feel disrespected and mistrusted and, as a result, constantly irritated.

It may have been why Bruce bitched so loud and long in front of Damian about Jason killing some truly evil piece of shit child sex traffickers.

It may have been why Bruce had completely lost his temper over both Damian's drawing and his defense of Jason.

It was almost certainly why Bruce was the only person in the family tonight who Damian clearly didn't love or appreciate.

The lump that was rapidly growing in Bruce's throat had nothing to do with fatherly pride or positive emotion.

It was grief.

Bruce realized that Damian had finally finished his overbearing exposition on the evils of his classmates' parents and was walking to the edge of the stage to take a bow.

"Bravo!" Jason yelled, jumping to his feet with Steph, who put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Dick and Alfred were standing up, too, and clapping; Alfred with a restrained British sensibility, of course, but looking very proud, while Dick was about to knock his arms off from how hard and fast he was clapping.

Babs was clapping with her arms over her head from her wheelchair before turning to smile at Dick as he paused in his clapping to give her a warm glance before hugging her shoulders and kissing her head.

Bruce had stood, of course, and was clapping, too, even though he felt as dead inside as Jason once was.

In the instant that Dick turned his head to look at Babs, Damian's eyes flashed to Bruce and he served up a truly wicked smile. That instantly melted back into sugar as soon as Dick was facing him again.

Bruce felt a shiver travel down his spine as if Lucifer himself had just smirked at him.

This, this would not do. This was his son. What the fuck was Bruce going to do?

"Jason?" Bruce said quietly as they sat back down and the assistant headmaster rolled the screen off of the stage so Alyssa could begin her tap dance.

"Yeah, Pops?" Jason said with a playful grin.

"I really am sorry," Bruce said, much more somberly than he had on the phone.

Jason, who had been ready to snark some more at Bruce, all in good fun, of course, paused. There was a look in Bruce's eyes that he wasn't used to seeing.

"Ok, Pops," Jason said softly instead. "I forgive you."

Bruce swallowed again and awkwardly patted Jason's knee.

Steph, who was watching their interaction with hawk-eyes, met Bruce's troubled ones.

"Will you help me, Steph?" Bruce asked her, leaning across Jason a little bit.

"With what?" she said.

"Damian," Bruce murmured underneath Alyssa's clomping around on stage. "I don't - I'm not a good father to him," he said.

Jason raised his eyebrows, shocked at his father's admission.

"Bruce," Steph said with some concern, "I think Dick would be the best one to help you with that."

But Bruce shook his head.

"I'll talk to Dick more, too," he said. "But I need you, Steph," he said, meeting her eyes.

"Alfred and Dick and Jason will only confront me to a certain point before they back off. But you… you won't stop until you've smacked sense back into me."

Jason snorted.

"Literally," he said, his shoulders shaking as he tried to keep his laughter silent.

Steph tossed her hair.

"That's because I'm not afraid of you, B," she said proudly.

"I know," Bruce said. "And… I appreciate that," he said so quietly that she almost didn't hear him. But she did.

And as Steph gave him a gentle smile and Jason reached over and squeezed his forearm, Bruce felt some of the emptiness in his chest give way to a little bit of warmth.

When the night's endless parade of mediocrity had mercifully drawn to an end, Damian came out from backstage to greet his family, seemingly unmindful of the vile looks that were being sent his way by almost everyone in the audience.

"Damian!" Dick said, equally ignorant as he bent down to hug him. "That was incredible. I am so very, very proud of you!" Dick said with one hundred and twenty percent sincerity, kissing his hair.

"I love you," Damian whispered into Dick's ear with his arms around his neck, so softly that no one else could hear him.

"I love you, too," Dick whispered back, holding his son close to his chest.

"I'm very proud of you, too, son," Bruce sighed when Dick released Damian.

"You are?" Damian said suspiciously.

"I am," Bruce said, bending down to his height as Jason and Steph thoughtfully distracted Dick and Babs away from their conversation while Alfred pretended not to listen.

"You made me realize some hard truths about myself," Bruce said quietly. "And that is a very difficult thing to get Bruce Wayne to do."

Damian's eyes lit up with the tiniest of sparks.

"I will learn how to do better," Bruce said, pulling Damian into a hug.

"I will tell you when you fail," Damian said reassuringly.

"And Steph will slap me when I don't listen," Bruce promised. "I already gave her permission."

"I've never needed your permission to slap you, B," Steph pointed out from above their heads where she had started to eavesdrop. "That's why you love me," she grinned.

Bruce grunted.

"Oh, my God, B!" Steph suddenly exclaimed, pulling Damian into a protective embrace.

"That's the necrophiliac!" she cried, pointing to Ms. Lewis who had made the unfortunate mistake of passing by the family too closely on her way to the exit.

"Stay away from our child!" Steph yelled at her as Ms. Lewis gasped and tried to back away.

"Now, honey," Jason said reassuringly, coming over to put an arm around Steph's shoulders as she continued to glare at the teacher.

"We don't really have to worry about Damian being in a necrophiliac's class unless he falls down dead one day in the middle of her lecture," Jason said calmly, smiling broadly at Ms. Lewis.

"What if she kills him?" Steph asked Jason with wide eyes.

Bruce met poor Ms. Lewis's eyes and he wanted to apologize, he really did, but he also wanted to make up with Damian and apologize to Jason and be a better parent and…

"I don't think she'll kill him as long as she has enough graves to rob," Bruce said pensively, as if Brucie Wayne had given the matter great thought.

"Perhaps the lax security at the cemetery is a good thing for the community," he continued. "If it keeps our children safe."

"Mr. Maronni," Ms. Lewis hissed to the Assistant Headmaster as he went by, yanking his arm to drag him over to the Waynes.

"It is intolerable that the Waynes keep accusing me of necrophilia," she said. "Do something."

Mr. Maronni stared at Bruce Wayne, who was smiling at him guilelessly with the money in his pocket to hire more lawyers than could fit in the entire school.

"I believe there has been a misunderstanding," Mr. Maronni said very, very cautiously to the billionaire.

" _I_ believe you were not in the conference room," Steph said back to him in the haughtiest of manners.

"Oh, headmaster, have you met our nanny Ms. Brown?" Brucie said politely. "We absolutely adore her."

"She is quite outstanding at her job," Damian added helpfully.

"Perhaps we should just transfer Damian to a different homeroom, hm?" Mr. Maronni said hopefully. "Let this whole matter blow over."

"I would prefer to be in Ms. Carter's homeroom," Damian said immediately. "She does not have a taste for dead bodies."

Mr. Maronni patted a gentle hand on Ms. Lewis's arm as she looked about ready to erupt.

"You'll be in Ms. Carter's class tomorrow, Damian," the Assistant Headmaster promised.

"What about the other children?" Steph started to protest as Mr. Maronni quickly led Ms. Lewis away.

"The cemetery security," Brucie could be heard consoling her in the distance. "Quite lax. Easy as pie to rob graves. The children will be quite safe, I'm sure."

That night, when Bruce went to his bedroom after patrolling with Tim, he was surprised to find another drawing resting on his pillow.

A bat was flapping around a graveyard as a robin sat in a tree, both watching a woman who looked an awful lot like Ms. Lewis digging up a grave.

Bruce walked down the hall to Damian's room and knocked on the door.

"Yes, Father?" Damian said, having only himself just returned from patrolling with Jason and Steph.

Bruce walked into his room with Damian's drawing in his hand and sat down next to him on the bed.

"I'm thinking this one goes on t-shirts," Bruce said, giving a little smile to his son.

Damian looked up at him and slowly smiled back.

_The End_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Fanfiction writers are thirsty vampires and comments are our lifeblood. (But if you are mean, we will cut a bitch. Cuz we are vampires rawr) 
> 
> So, because I have decided that I WILL write a direct sequel to "How Now, Batcow?" at some point, as well as set more stories in this universe, be sure to **subscribe to this Batcowverse SERIES** (not an individual story) if you want updates on when new stories post. 
> 
> "Daddy Bats and Mother Hen," which I wrote for Batfam Week 2020 along with HNB, can also take place in this universe. It doesn't need to - but it can, so I added it into the series as well. 
> 
> Please check out my other Batman stories - two longfics are being actively updated once a week (one is Justice League focused) and I have many short stories as well. 
> 
> If you love JaySteph, come check out @fyeahjaysteph on tumblr for many great story recs and artwork. 
> 
> See ya next time, BatReaders!
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr as River9Noble. Come say hi!


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